


Windows To The Soul {UNDER CONSTRUCTION}

by Mysterycheerio



Category: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Antoinette Syndrome, Awesome Michelle Jones, BAMF Michelle Jones, Eyes, F/M, Flowers, Gen, Human Experimentation, Hurt Peter Parker, Hydra (Marvel), Kid Wanda Maximoff, Kidnapping, Michelle Jones Is a Good Bro, Minor Michelle Jones/Peter Parker, Mutant Powers, Peter Parker Gets a Hug, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker is a Mess, Pietro Maximoff Lives, Protective Michelle Jones, THEN DIES, Wanda Maximoff Needs a Hug, peters hair is w h i t e, series maybe????, sorry - Freeform, thats wack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-24
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:40:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27181907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mysterycheerio/pseuds/Mysterycheerio
Summary: It's been years since ten year old Peter Parker had been kidnapped - now he's sixteen. He was taken by Hydra into a place called 'The Garden', and while they give him whatever he wants, they also experiment on him, some physical changes, some powers.When he was 13, four guests arrived, teenagers about to endure the same as him, and the five teens were inseparable, and have been ever since.Only Three Remain.What will he do when a peice of his past joins him?
Relationships: Michelle Jones & Peter Parker & Gwen Stacy, Michelle Jones/Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Pietro Maximoff & Wanda Maximoff & Peter Parker
Comments: 41
Kudos: 75





	1. Eyes Purple, Deep And Galactic

**Author's Note:**

> hi, so this might be a bit weird but it'll all be explained soon, I promise.  
> TW: experimentation, kidnapping, and some Stockholm syndrome, but like, not really, its really complicated :(
> 
> Note: fic inspo did come from a tik tok, which i can't find rn, basically they were singing different versions of "eyes blue, like the atlantic" and it was beautiful.

When he was born, he had brown eyes. 

Like his mother, and his aunt. Soulful, experienced eyes, but the time he was a teenager. Filled with happiness, and love and light, but hiding pain, a pain he carried alone.

He liked his eyes.

He still likes his eyes.

Well, ‘likes' is the wrong word. He’d prefer if he hadn’t acquired them through copious amounts of torture and abuse, but his eyes are the change he can live with.

Everyone in the garden has strange eyes. Their eyes before were like his, soulful, carrying wisdom, passion, although not all of them were brown. Their eyes are beautiful, although he does miss looking into the icy blue, or deep green.

They call it the garden. It’s not actually a garden, they call it that because their handler is always trying to make it seem like a nice place to live, and they asked for many plants. In reality, it’s a prison - decorated with colourful bedsheets and rugs and paper. Their are eight rooms, all in a circle. Five of which are bedrooms, occupied by him and his roommates. One is a bathroom, one is a small kitchenette, the last a library. The center of the circle is an open area, where all the plants are, although there are some in the rooms. 

The center of the garden holds beanbag chairs, little succulents, a TV and couches. Fluffy rugs adorn the hardwood floors, beautiful vines hang from plant pots attached to the ceiling.

That’s what confused him about this place.   
The garden was his home, his friends, family was his home, but outside the garden held so much more pain. 

First, there was Wanda. 

All rooms had been given a colour/aesthetic to match the colour of their eyes. His handler, who he knew was an extention of HYDRA, was, to put it lightly, _batshit crazy,_ and liked each child to have a signature colour, which wasn't at all creepy. 

Wanda – his sister in arms, her eyes were red. Deep and vibrant, like blood, but also held a sort of mystical vibe to them, which made sense, all things considered – the enhancement they gave her was quite magical. Roses sat on her windowsill, in a distinguished clear vase.

Wanda's twin brother, Pietro, his colour was silver. His eyes were incredible, deep like silver, but light like a feather. Most of the things in his room, if not silver, were white. He had died during experimentation a week after his birthday. He swore that when Pietro died, the daisies on his shelves had never looked so wilted.

Gwen was like the ocean, in more ways than one. She was unruly and mischievous, but fun and snarky. She was gifted similar powers to him, and they bonded over it. They were often put into groups together to train, and she became like his sister. Her eyes were teal, a shade of blue which matched her long-abandoned pointe shoes which now lay on his mantlepiece. The flowers in her room – well, their scientific name was Ixia Viridifloria, but they often referred to it as Ixia, when the didn’t call it Gwen's flower.

Michelle was incredible. She was extremely talented, and when she spoke, be it small condolence or snarky comeback, his stomach leapt, in a good way. Her eyes were gold, deep and majestic, which matched her personality to a tea. Rich, exquisite, just like her. The sunflowers she kept reminded her of her childhood, specifically her childhood nickname.

He was a weird case, but it didn’t really surprise him.

His colour was purple, a deep purple that resembles Wanda’s red on some cases, the lavender that sat on his desk were beautiful, his eyes were purple – dark and galactic. He was also the only one who had any other appearance changes other than his eyes. His hair, which used to be a rich brown, just like his eyes, was now stark white, due to the mixture of experiments and stress. Antoinette syndrome.  
There used to be five, now there was three.

The rooms hadn’t changed, either, everything was exactly as they left it, apart from a few items. They knew when new arrivals came, they’d empty out the stuff and burn it, so a few items went to the other kids. After a nightmare, or a relapse of some sort, they’d sit in one of the two rooms, and just breathe.   
This particular week, workers were filing into Pietro's old bedroom, and taking everything out, from the bed, to the books and everything in-between. They stood in the center, Wanda watching them in horror as she gripped her necklace – a pendant Pietro had given to her when they were small.

That was another thing, they all had necklaces. Not because their creepy handler liked them, but because they all had the same instinct to grab a trinket from their homes before being snatched up. The only one who didn’t have one was Gwen, because she was grabbed in the coffee shop she worked at. Peter begged the guards for weeks to get her a necklace for her birthday, an aquamarine birthstone surrounded by silver.

By the end of the week, the room was white, with black accents, far more mature than any of their rooms.

The next week, the prisoner came in. Although he had a black bag around his head, he could tell the man was, a) a man, and b) rich. He came in wearing a three piece Tom Ford suit. They were playing contract on the coffee table when he came in, and resumed playing, Wanda getting the pile this time, one pile away from her contract.

After getting thrown into the cell, the guards retreated, and he stumbled out, ripping his hood of and looking at the kids playing cards in the center incredulously.

“I swear Wanda's cheating,” Michelle said, slamming her cards face down, but sounding as nonchalant as ever, “Can we start again?”

He nodded, dealing the cards out and taking down people’s contracts onto a sheet of paper. The man was now wandering around the center. When Wanda bet 5, Michelle bet 4 and he, begrudgingly, bwt two, he announced, “We’re floating two.”

“Fuck!” Wanda shouted, “I always lose the floating ones.”

“And I always win the floating ones,” Michelle said, giddily, “No cheating this time, please.”

They began to play, and finally, the man cleared his throat.

“Uh, hello?”

They turned round, and seeing their eyes made him stumble back slightly.

“Well, that’s a new record,” Michelle said, looking at her watch.

“Impressive.”

They stood up, and smiled, before Michelle said, “It’s your turn to do the introduction, Nerd.”

“Nuh-uh, I did it with Gwen!”

“Just do it!”

He sighed, “Hello,” he said, his voice stirring confusion in the man, “I’m Peter, this is Wanda, Michelle,” he explained, pointing to the girls, “You’re Tony Stark. This is the garden.”

“The... Garden...?”

“We’re in a facility in the middle of bum-fuck, these rooms, as well as the center, is called the garden, cause we like plants. On your left, we have the shy gays, on the right we have the emo simps, and don’t forget about the deranged murderers, but they’re always behind you.”

They laughed, he didn’t look impressed, more like he had had an epiphany. “Peter? Peter Parker?”

“Ay!” They all shouted at once, then Peter explained, “I didn’t think you’d recognise me, Sir.”

They migrated back to their game, MJ pointing briefly where the bathroom, kitchen and library was.

Peter won two rounds, which put him in the danger zone, as he had two trump cards left, low ones albeit, and he had already met his contract.

“What...,” Tony paused, carefully thinking over his words, “Happened to you?”

Peter snorted, but it didn’t hold any humour. “Too much.”


	2. I Fall Apart... And I Thought I Was So Smart...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> idk if I'm gonna continue this but this is what you get for now.
> 
> uwu

Tony wasn’t expecting what he saw.

He had been kidnapped, on purpose, although his captors didn’t know it. They had gotten work some children were being held in a facility somewhere, and Tony lost a bet, so he was the one to go in. Fucking Rogers.

When he ripped the bag off his head, he was perplexed. Firstly, when he walked out of his room (he hadn’t got a look at it yet) he only saw a normal living room, if not for the dozens of flowers. Some were hanging from the ceiling, some in little plant pots, some... you get the point. There was a lot of flowers.

In the center of the room, were the children. They seemed to be teenagers, which, okay, it was awful, but at least they were teenagers, and not actual children. They were huddled around the coffee table, dealing playing cards, a piece of paper next to them.

Two of them, the two girls, looked somewhat normal. One was white, and had beautiful, sleek blonde hair. She was wearing burgundy dungarees over a white crop top. The other seemed to be mixed, and had long, curly hair, which was slicked back into a low ponytail. She was wearing blue, cuffed jeans, with paintings of sunflowers on them, and a V-neck, yellow cardigan, which was halfway tucked into her jeans.

The other, a boy, was wearing plaid trousers and purple vans, which matched the purple hoodie he was wearing, that was, like Michelle’s top, half tucked. His hair was unruly and were in ringlets, but, strangely enough, was white. Stark white, not another colour to be seen. Freckles dotted his hands as he hastily scribbled down some numbers from their game of contract.

He was even more perplexed when he cleared his throat. They all looked up at him, although not with a sense of urgency like they had just noticed he was there, it was more relaxed. Then, he got a good look at their eyes, which, for one, they were completely unnatural colours, and seemed to match their outfits.

The yellow girl had deep gold eyes, a gold which looked like it belonged in a million dollar ring. The red girl had scarlet eyes, like blood, and the boy had purple eyes, the type of purple which was not only luxurious, and screamed extravagance and creativity, but was also mystical and galactic. He privately wondered if the boy had albinism, but, even though something inside him screamed no, they did this to him, he thought logically, that someone with that type of condition wouldn’t have skin this tanned.

They explained where they were... they called it “The Garden".

And then, he recognised, the boy, Peter, as Peter Parker, the boy who went missing a few years ago, a few years ago meaning almost seven year’s ago. While he wasn’t biologically related to the boy, they developed a close bond after his parents died. He and Peter’s father, Richard, were friends – they had met at a boarding school in Italy, and Peter was placed under his care before being lut permanently with his aunt and uncle, May and Ben.

They were close, before he went missing, and they developed, a mentor-mentee relationship, something he was grateful for, before they got into an argument, just a week before he went missing.

He doesn’t even remember what it was about.

When the lights shut off abruptly, the three shuffled away into their rooms.

Tony spent that mulling over the question that had been lingering in his head since he saw Peter: what did he do wrong?

The next day, he walked into the center, and Peter and Wanda were in workout gear, looking blankly at the twenty soldiers filing in, before they took them somewhere.

“W-where are they going?” He asked Michelle once they had gone, who was flicking between channels on the TV, bored.

“They’re taking them down to training.”

His eyebrows knit in confusion, “So, why are you here then?”

“Cause they have powers,” his stomach dropped, “They don’t want me fighting them cause I'm training to be an assassin, not a super-soldier.”

Peter had been experimented on. Ripped apart, tortured. Had he endured all that alone? Awake? He could only guess. But knowing that his mentee (or what was left of his mentee, the seventeen year old seemed like a far cry from the ten year old he used to know) would be studied, and put on the index... it made his stomach roll.

“Oh, don’t look like that, Stark. We’ve all been experimented on. It’s like a sort of initiation here. How do you think I got my gold eyes?”

He said nothing, just swallowed for a moment. Then, “And... his white hair?”

She sighed, muting the TV, “Have you ever heard of Marie Antoinette?”

He nods, “Well, I know a little, but not a lot. Last French Queen, right?”

She nods, “Well, the night before her execution, it’s said her hair went white. Pretty much a fuckton of stress was put onto her, which caused her hair to turn white. Antoinette Syndrome,” she paused, but Tony didn’t comment, “I imagine hours of torture, experimentation and training, and just overall worrying for your life would cause some stress “

He buried his eyes into his hands at her words. “I’m sorry.”

She huffed, “You didn’t do jackshit to me, Stark. It’s him you abandoned. Now, pick up one of these squirt bottles, and help me water these plants.”

They spend the next half an hour watering the plants, Michelle telling Tony a fact about each one, naming the ones with really scientific names. He waters a blue, almost teal one, and waits for her comment, but the girl stood there, silent. A melancholic, nostalgic look was plastered on her face.

“Ixia Viridifloria,” She blurts out, causing Tony to look at her with an expression which managed to coax an explanation out of her. “We... there were others. Soldiers, kids, I mean. This was a flower.”

He lowered the spray bottle, and looked at her sadly.

“Her name was Gwen. Gwen Stacy. Her colour was teal, and she was the last one to arrive. She was given similar powers to Peter, but when they kept on experimenting on Peter, and training him non-stop, they realized he was a better soldier than she was, through and through. So, they made him slit her _fucking_ throat.”

A hand came up to his mouth in horror.

“You have to understand,” Michelle said, her voice trembling, “In here, it’s a safe zone. Out there,” she gestured to the door, “The scientists and trainers and handlers will do whatever it takes to get you to be the best you can. They threatened to kill Peter, he had to.”

She breathed in purposefully, trying to calm down from her almost hysterical state. “He and Gwen were best friends. Her death haunted him for a long time. Still haunts him.”

He nodded, looking down.

“The other was, uh, Pietro Maximoff, but we just called him Silver. We all have nicknames for each other. Anyways, he was Wanda’s twin brother, and he, uh, thought of an escape plan. So we followed him, but didn’t get far, and as punishment, we had to watch him get hung, drawn and quartered. Part of the reason why we don’t leave this room.”

The thought of the teens watching their friend, Wanda watching her brother, be hanged until half dead, then cut open from the neck to the ankle, then beheaded made him want to vomit. They watched as they took his organs out, and stuffed them on pans to cook. They heard his screams as he felt himself he burned alive.

He decided, right then and there as Michelle was watering some lillies, that he’d get them out of there. Whatever it took.

He went back to watering sunflowers.

* * *

He didn’t know what time it was, but it was early when the guards started banging on the doors. He was the first out of his room, and watched as the doors to Wanda's, Peter’s and Michelle’s room opened. The teens rushed out and placed themselves on their knees in the center of the room, to Tony’s horror.

The doors opened, and a dark looking man with a malicious smile stepped through, his entourage following behind him.

“It seems, kiddos,” he drawled out, pacing in front of them, “That one of you made contact with the Avengers.”

Looks of horror crossed their faces, and Wanda’s head turned to face Tony, who was standing to the side.

“Now, who do we think it was, boys?” He said, addressing his crew. One brave guard spoke up and said, “It could’ve been Maximoff. She has those freaky mind powers.”

He shook his head, “No. The signal wasn’t inhuman, it was technological. My money is on Parker, you have an IQ of 250, give or take, don’t you?”

“Yes, sir,” he said, quietly.

“You know the rules, Parker. What do you get for making contact with the outside world?”

Peter’s voice had gone from frail to numb in 2 seconds flat, the tone breaking Tony’s heart, “I get discipline, Sir.”

The man smiled, and ruffled his hair, a gesture so affectionate it didn’t belong with him. “Let’s get to it then.”

“No,” Tony shouted as the guards stood Peter up, “It was me, punish me!”

He smiled. “I know it was you Stark. This is your punishment.”

Peter was dragged out of sight.

He returned hours later, well into the night, but everyone was awake, waiting for his return. They dropped him in the middle of the floor, unconscious, multiple cuts and bruises on his person, drenched in water. Tony’s stomach dropped.

A second later, he was coughing up water, and MJ was helping him to his room, Wanda following suit.

Tony pretended not to notice the engagement ring attached to the chain around his neck.

-


	3. note.

hey guys, its cheerio.

just wanted to let yall know that im currently doing a sequel with good chapters, there's at least five there.

however, i did change some things about this universe, so this fic will have to change a tad, so be prepared for that. 

the main premise will still be the same, but with more sibling content, wanda, pietro and gwen, and definitely more bamf peter and michelle. 

see you on the flip side!

**Author's Note:**

> comment for the poor pls?
> 
> also, those of u following me on Instagram @mysterycheerio will get an edit of what they look like (not peters hair tho, cause idk how to do dat)


End file.
